


Infectious

by caughtitonland



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: M/M, [genre] schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-21
Updated: 2011-01-21
Packaged: 2017-10-20 14:47:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/213911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caughtitonland/pseuds/caughtitonland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve catches a bad cold. Danny plays mommy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Infectious

**Author's Note:**

> Unapologetic schmoop. I have a cold, therefore Steve gets one too.

The good news is that his nose has stopped running. The bad news? The front door is being unlocked and Steve's pretty damn sure he knows who's coming through it. He doesn't bother with knocking or bro hugs, high fives or fist bumps any more. They're all played out in his opinion.

Steve doesn't even open his eyes as he hears Danny's patent-leather loafers squeak across the hardwood of the living room, his step hurried as usual. At the last minute, Danny makes a detour to the kitchen and Steve can't help but laugh. Either the man brought groceries, or he's after another Peppermint patty; either way, it bears getting up to take a look.

“Hey,” he grins, leaning against the door frame that separates the kitchen from the living room. Despite the heat outside, Steve's wrapped in a white blanket, his skin nearly matching the fabric despite his perennial tan.

“Mornin'. You look like shit.”

“Thanks. What'd you bring? What'd the team say to a day off?”

“I brought necessities and they both told me to tell you that they better still be getting paid. Kono's out at Diamondhead and Chin's gonna be working on the bike all day. They said thanks. Have you eaten?”

“Yeeaa-no.” Steve can't remember ever lying to Danny, and he figures now is probably not the best time to start, especially given his current condition. A grandmother can probably take him out in the state he's in. He sniffles then coughs, making sure to angle away from Danny. The last thing he wants is the team's proverbial whiner bitching about getting sick.

It's only when he turns back around that Steve notices Danny's not wearing his usual uniform. In fact, he's not wearing anything even remotely resembling his shirt, tie, slacks, and loafers ensemble. Steve smiles wide before he can stop himself, truly elated to see Danny cutting loose a bit. Dressed in a t-shirt, old jeans, and flip-flops, he almost looks Kama'aina. The only giveaway that he's a mainlander is the terrible tan line that separates his forearms from his biceps.

“Dude, you really should work on that farmer's tan. S'not a good l--” Steve can't finish his sentence, a flurry of sneezes coming one after another, five in total. When his body finally relaxes and he looks back at his friend, his eyes have turned to slits, his nose matches Rudolph's and his entire face hurts.

“You. Go lay down. Couch, or bed, I don't care. I am making you lunch, and then you are taking some meds for whatever the hell it is you have. And do not laugh,” Even as he says the words, Danny's tying a black and white bandana around his face, biker-style. Steve snorts and then chokes on his own spit, another coughing spree bending him in two until his lungs calm down.

“Go!” Danny emphasizes the words with one extended arm, finger pointed in the direction Steve had come from. Nodding while still coughing lightly, Steve moved back towards the living room, hoping that Danny had brought some form of entertainment. Daytime TV SUCKED.

There's surprisingly little banging around in the kitchen, and after about half an hour, Steve's almost tempted to check on Danny to make sure he's still alive. Just as he starts to move, his partner swings into his line of sight, a tray balanced in one hand, a drugstore bag in the other.

“Okay, first thing's first. Soup, then sandwich, then tea. Then we'll talk meds. Scoot over.” Steve's eyes widen a bit as he takes in the spread, blinking when he realizes that everything is homemade.

“This didn't come from a can?”

“Contrary to popular belief, Stephen, I _do_ know how to cook. Now eat,” Danny replies as he grabs the remote for the DVD player, turning it on before popping in a copy of _Bad Boys II_. Steve has to smile again; it's become their thing. Whenever they're hanging out they'll put on some cop show or another. Whether it's a movie or a TV show, they sit back and enjoy in as near-silence as possible; color commentary tends to keep the experience from being all encompassing, but it's like watching sports. You can't just sit there and say nothing, especially when you know better.

Steve scoots to the end of the couch, grabbing the spoon and filling it up with a hearty helping of noodles, veggies, and broth. Only when he puts it in his mouth, does he realize why it smelled so familiar.

“You used my mom's recipe?” he asks Danny, looking both amazed and touched at the thought.

“Yeah, I figured it'd help with the whole 'feeling better' thing. Saw the recipe in the book the last time I was here and figured I'd give it a shot,” Danny answers with a shrug, playing it out like it's no big deal even though Steve knows better. Danny had, in one visit, memorized the ingredients in McGarrett family soup, and gone out of his way to make Steve a pot of it.

“Thank you,” he whispers, sincerity filling his voice before he takes another spoonful, eyes locked on his partner and friend. Danny's smile is worth a thousand words as he nods and slumps back into the couch, flip flops gone as he rests his feet on the lower cross bar of the coffee table.

Steve eats in silence as the previews play, each bite reminding him of good memories; it's not until the bowl is empty that he realizes that his nose isn't stuffed up anymore. He breathes easy for a few moments, enjoying the faint sensation of normal air circulation through his head before another round of sneezes ruins it. Danny doesn't shift his eyes from the screen as he pulls a tissue from the box that sits between them, dangling it in front of Steve's face, waiting for him to take it.

“I'm fine,” Steve shakes his head, sniffling even as he says it. Danny rolls his eyes.

“Blow,” Danny instructs, still not looking at Steve as he holds the tissue around his nose in much the same fashion as he does with Grace when she's got a cold. Sometimes Danny wonders if both aren't cut from the same cloth, the way they both deal with winter sniffles. Steve grits his teeth, opens his mouth to speak, sneezes again, and finally, with a sound that's equal parts resignation and suffering, blows as directed.

“Again.” It's Steve who rolls his eyes this time, not fighting quite so hard as Danny holds a fresh tissue up to his nose, the other one soaked with fluid. “Thank you,” Danny adds, finally turning his head to give Steve a shit-eating grin.

“I'm not five, you know. I can blow my own nose, _mom_ ,” Steve mutters as he reaches for his grilled cheese sandwich, the bread perfectly toasted, cheese still warm and melting between the slices.

“Could've fooled me, princess. Keeping all that stuff in will only prolong your suffering. Better to get it out now than hack it all up in the morning.”

“Thank you, Dr. Gupta.”

“Don't think that just because your sick that I won't hit you, McGarrett.”

“Love you too, Daniel.”

They both smile after, knowing full well that neither of them means any of the insults they exchange anymore. Gone is Day 1 where they both wanted to tear each other's throats out. Now, they do it because it's funny, endearing, and gives them both a sense of normalcy in their otherwise-chaotic life.

“Danny, this is really good. Didn't think I was hungry, but man, this hits the spot,” Steve breaks the comfortable silence after a few more minutes, the last bite of his sandwich still in his hand.  
“It's no sweat, babe. Can't do our jobs without you, so...” And Steve doesn't need to ask to know that Danny's saying more than what he's verbally putting out. This thing between them has been growing for a few weeks now, and both are past the point of questioning it. They accept that it's there, take it day by day and make sure that it doesn't get in the way of work. If he needed any more proof that they're doing it right, it's given to him on a silver platter when Danny reaches for his hand, threading their fingers together, his eyes never once breaking from the first shot of the film.

“You gonna take that thing off your face any time soon?” Steve questions about half way through the movie, Danny having stopped it because the coughs and sneezes are getting in the way of the dialogue.

“When you're no longer an infectious contagion, sure,” he grins, Steve's own face breaking into a smile as he sees the corners of Danny's eyes crinkle in the tell-tale signs of a smirk.

“What else is in the bag?”

“Enough cold medication to put down a mule, which is appropriate considering you're a giant—”

“You're short, there's a difference. I'm perfectly normal.”

“Whatever, Gigantor. Cold meds, cough drops, that stuff you spray on the back of your throat that tastes like Jager, Breathe Rights, Vicks, more tea and a few more movies.” Steve gives Danny an impressed look, not having thought to get any of that stuff for himself, as he'd originally just planned on going to work and toughing it out.

“Now say 'ahh' before I'm forced to do something drastic,” Danny adds, holding two pills already out of their blister pack, Steve's tea in his free hand. There's no fight this time as he lets Danny drop the meds onto his tongue and then takes a swallow of the tea to wash them down. He's about to sink back into the couch, when Danny motions for him to open up again. This time, it's the throat spray and Steve doesn't even have time to protest as Danny gives him three quick sprays. He sputters and swallows, his face scrunching up almost immediately.

“You're right, it does taste like Jager.”  
“Two more and you're done,” Danny explains, holding out a cough drop. As Steve pops it into his mouth, Danny makes quick work of putting the Breathe Right on him, making sure it's stuck down good before taking all the scraps and chucking them into the now-empty bag.

Without a word, Danny shifts his seat from facing the TV to laying on it lengthwise, signaling for Steve to do the same. McGarrett raises an eyebrow.

“I thought you didn't want me so much as breathing on you until I was better...”

“Changed my mind. Lay down before you pass out and break your nose on the coffee table.” Steve chuckles as he moves to lay down between Danny's legs, taking only a few moments before he's settled in. He can't stop from closing his eyes as Danny's warm hands descend on him, one in his hair stroking gently, the other on his back, rubbing big slow circles over the fabric of his t-shirt.

“Sleep. We can pick the movie up where we left off when you wake up,” Danny murmurs, tipping his head down and pressing a tender kiss to the top of Steve's head. Sick or not, Steve's pretty sure it's the best sleep he'll ever get.


End file.
